On the Couch
by Almost Anonymous
Summary: Harry's sleeping on the couch for making Hermione mad, but nothing's that simple with her.


**Disclaimer**: Nope, not mine. The characters are J. K. Rowling's (and her publishers', I guess) and I'm just borrowing them for a bit of fun. 

AN: This is a spur of a moment thing that was literally written in an hour (with some editing done later, of course), and I'm not sure where the inspiration came from anymore.

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It was only his second night, but Harry was already realizing just how horrible punishment it was to be commanded on the couch. Not that there was anything wrong with their couch, it was actually quite comfortable to sleep on, but rather he really missed having Hermione next to him. It had only been six months that the two had been living together, but during that time Harry had got so used to having her sleep next to him that it had become difficult for him to even fall asleep without her presence.

And the worst thing was that he really thought that he deserved it and he didn't have the gall to beg for her to let him sleep next to her – he wanted to suffer his punishment until she fully forgave him and until that he would apologize and repent for his actions, but he wouldn't try to weasel his way out of it. He had made a bit of spectacle of himself at Hermione's cousin's wedding when he had ended up quite drunk from all the wine and Champagne that he had been offered. He knew that he could have put the blame on his inexperience concerning alcohol, but he knew that he could have, and _should_ have, stopped when he had started feeling the intoxication taking over his mind.

He was eternally thankful for Hermione for intervening before he had had time to do anything really stupid, besides acting all bubbly and hyperactive. He had just been in the process of starting to sing the Hogwarts school song aloud, when Hermione had had enough and she had thrown a bucket-full of cold water on him – something that had a very nice sobering effect – before promptly taking him home.

And now it was only the third night after the awry-gone wedding – or second after his waking up with an awful hangover, lost memory of the night, and a terribly mad Hermione – and Harry was, quite understandably, still on the couch. Hermione hadn't actually even spoken much to him after the severe talking to he had received in his hungover state, but still he knew that she would come around eventually, and at least now that Harry had seen what happened when you didn't watch your drinking, he knew that he wouldn't let it happen again.

He continued mulling over his stupidity and twisting around on the couch until he heard a soft patter of feet. He didn't even need to see her to know that it was Hermione, because he didn't know of anyone who could walk like that (somehow she managed to make a clearly audible but still a very soft noise as she walked barefoot) – never mind there being no one else in the house besides the two of them.

"Hermio–" he started saying as he sat up to see her just behind the couch, wearing one of her thin nightgowns that were almost see-through, but she stopped him by raising a finger to her lips and shushing softly.

She walked around the couch and sat down next to him, and now there was not a trace of anger on her features, unlike most of the time when she had been in his presence for the last two days. She hesitated only for a second, before she kissed him, sweetly and gently at first, but quickly increasing the passion of the kiss. He didn't exactly know what to make of it, so he just decided to go along with it and he responded to the kiss, giving back just as much as she gave him.

Soon their hands started roaming around each other's bodies freely and soft kisses and nibbles echoed on their mouths and necks at first, but eventually everywhere on their skins, and it was already a very familiar pattern to them both – yet it was still different and new every time they repeated it. Soft kisses and touches, and small sighs, moans and gasps filled their whole world for a small eternity, and the contact of skin on skin, and the sounds they evoked from each other became their whole universe even after the softness turned to ardent caresses, passionate kisses and gentle bites. Then they were once again drowned in the pleasure of their lovemaking and they were swallowed whole by the love they felt for each other, and at the same time their souls were ripped bare of anything but love for a small space of time.

Afterwards they lay there together, listening to each other's rapid breathing, neither willing to break the spell of contentment that lay on them by speaking. Every now and then their fingers would trace soft and slow patterns on the skin of the other and eventually their breathing slowed down and they were almost completely silent – until the silence was broken by a sigh from her and she got up reluctantly.

She picked up her nightgown but she didn't bother putting it on, and instead she stood naked in front of him. "You know, I'm still a bit angry at you," she spoke softly to him in a neutral tone.

"I know and I'm still sorry," he replied earnestly, his voice slightly raw with emotion as he sat up and looked at her.

She smiled at him lightly and that simple expression sent his heart soaring to the skies from the depths of the deepest chasms where it had been lately.

"I love you," she whispered softly and she reached out her hand to softly touch his nose before she gave him one last gentle kiss, turned around and walked away.

"I love you too," he said into the night as he listened to the patter of her feet slowly fading away. For a moment he smiled to himself, slightly amused and bewildered by her actions, but then he felt his love for her so intensely that it was painful for a moment – she really was one of a kind and he was so incredibly lucky to have her in his life.

Once she was gone and he heard the soft noises of the door to their bedroom opening and closing, he finally laid down on the couch again. Her smile and especially the way she had touched his nose had convinced him more than anything else could have that he was going to be forgiven soon – small touches of his face was one of the unique things she did to express her love for him and he found that very endearing.

With his mind finally set at ease he found it very easy to fall asleep, and with her presence and scent still lingering in the living room, around the couch, and on his body he dreamed only of pleasant things, all of them somehow connecting to her.


End file.
